Angel
by wileej
Summary: A mysterious girl with no name has been revolving Murdoc Niccals's life since he was a young boy. Who is the girl with stunning blue eyes, where did she come from, and-most importantly-what is she capable of?


_Age 4_

Murdoc stood nervously in the middle of the stage, the sick feeling getting more and more intense as the off-key piano began to play. Every year his father forced him to do these ridiculous performances for some extra cash, and every year the humiliation nearly killed the young boy.

As Murdoc choked out the first few lyrics, someone from the back of the dingy old bar began to throw merciless insults at Murdoc. "Oi, get the next kid on, this one's making my ears bleed!" he shouted, and a few of the other men surrounding him chortled. Murdoc glanced over at his father at side stage; the man's face was contorted with rage and drunkenness. Murdoc's heart sank at the sight—he knew he was going to get beaten tonight.

As the song slowly came to an end, more and more people started shouting at the boy. "Get him off the stage!" they yelled, "Send another up!"

An unexpected anger flared in Murdoc's chest. Without thinking, the boy cut the last note short and threw his microphone at the man in the back. It caught him squarely in the face. The man sat for a moment, stunned. Murdoc took the chance and bolted off the stage and out the back door, into the night.

Murdoc ran, and kept running until his legs began to hurt and his breath became ragged. He stopped in an alley and hid himself between two dumpsters. He was going to get it now; his father would be furious. Murdoc knew we was going to get the beating of a lifetime, yet somehow he felt… he wasn't sure. Almost happy. A giggle bubbled up in his chest. It increased until he was laughing so hard there was a stitch in his side. The look on the man's face when the microphone hit him!

A small noise made Murdoc jump. Someone had cleared their throat. "Who's there?" he asked, squinting into the darkness. A girl about his age stepped out into his line of view. She was wearing a long white dress that trailed behind her in a heap. Her feet were bare and her hands were dirty, her short blonde hair matted and messy. Murdoc, however, did not notice any of this; he instead noticed her eyes: they were a blue that Murdoc had never seen before. They were so clear and so deep and so brilliant; it reminded him of the ocean. Or perhaps the sky.

"Why are you laughing?" the girl said tentatively. Her hands were twisted together in front of her and she had a curious expression on her face, like she was studying Murdoc. The look made him feel slightly uncomfortable, as though she could see right through him with those blue eyes.

"Is it because you threw your microphone at that man?" she said, tilting her head to the side. _So she was there?_ Murdoc thought, an odd feeling of embarrassment rising in him. _Did she see me sing?_

"Yeah," he answered, scratching his head. "Why do you care?"

The girl didn't answer his question. "I thought you were brilliant," she said, sitting down cross-legged in front of him. "That man shouldn't have said those things to you."

This caught Murdoc off guard. Never in his short life had he heard someone give him a compliment. He didn't know how to respond. "Okay," he said shyly.

They sat there silently for a few minutes. Murdoc was trying to look anywhere but at the girl. He instead stared down at his ridiculous costume that his father had forced him to wear. With a sinking feeling, he realized how stupid he must look. Murdoc felt his cheeks heat up.

"Was the man on the side stage your father?" the girl asked suddenly. Murdoc looked up to see those blue eyes bearing down on his. He looked away. "Yes," he answered quietly. He didn't want to talk about his father. He changed the subject before she could ask anything else.

"I'm Murdoc, by the way. What's your name?" The girl's cheeks turned bright pink and she looked down, her short blonde hair falling into her eyes. "I… don't really have one," she said.

Murdoc cocked his head, confused. "What do you mean, 'you don't have one'? Everyone has a name. I'm Murdoc Alphonze Niccals. That's three names. You don't even have one?"

The girl shook her head. Murdoc huffed. That was impossible! He decided to go a different route. "Well, you have parents, don't you? A Mum or a Dad?" The girl just shook her head again and played with a pebble on the ground. She looked incredibly sad.

"Then… where did you come from?" he asked. The girl paused, as though she were thinking very hard. Finally, she looked at him. "The sky," she answered.

_Age 7_

"Get on the damned bus, or I'm leaving without you," the bus driver snapped. Murdoc didn't want to go to school. He didn't want to be stuck in a tiny room full of kids he didn't like all day and then spend all night in an even tinier room with more kids he didn't like all the more.

_Better there than here_, he thought solemnly as he glanced back at his drunk, scowling father, and he boarded the crowded bus. Kids of all ages were on it, all of them hopping and running about like maniacs. Murdoc sighed and headed for the nearest empty seat.

Two and a half gruelling hours later, the bus rolled to a stop in front of a dingy-looking old building. As the other kids shot up from their seats and filed impatiently out the bus doors, Murdoc sat quietly in his seat, dreading what lay beyond. "Oi," the driver shouted, glaring at him through the rear-view mirror, "get your ugly ass off my bus or I'm throwing you out the window."

Murdoc pulled himself off the seat and out the door, sending a silent prayer that the driver might drive himself off a cliff sometime soon. Through the glaring sun, Murdoc looked miserably up at the school. He had already started to hate it there.

A loud bell rang throughout the courtyard and kids began to queue up at the doors. Murdoc reluctantly followed. The halls of the school were crowded and horribly loud; Murdoc felt as though he was being shoved from post to pillar everywhere he went. Finally, he made it to his homeroom class. Most of his classmates were already there and stared at him freely as he quickly took his seat at the back of the class. Not soon after the teacher strolled in; a fat old man with little glasses perched on his long broad nose and pants hitched up to his chest. Murdoc couldn't help it; he choked back a smile.

The teacher settled the class down and began to drone on and on about God-knows-what; Murdoc wasn't listening. He spent the day sitting at the back of his classes, staring off into space.

When the day finally ended, Murdoc grabbed his book-bag—completely empty, of course—and began making his way to his dorm room until he was interrupted by a hand on his shoulder.

"Where d'ya think you're going, Face Ache?" said a voice behind him. He turned to see a boy nearly twice his size towering over him, a mean smile stretched across his face.

"I asked you a question, Dumbass," the boy said, giving Murdoc a forceful shove. Murdoc kept his mouth shut. He had learned from his father that anything he said would only make it all the worse.

"What, you deaf or something? Where're you going?" the boy was shouting at him now, his face contorted in a retched grin. They were drawing a crowd. Murdoc just stood there, staring at his shoes.

"Maybe this'll make you talk," the boy said, and Murdoc braced himself for the blow. "Randy!" a voice said abruptly, and the boy turned his head toward the voice. It sounded absolutely frightened. Murdoc kept his head down, too scared to move.

"Randy! Oh, Randy, thank Goodness I found you! Your mother—she's here. In the office. She's talking to the principal—he's telling her _everything_!" The boy gasped and tore his way through the crowd and bolted toward the office. The crowd followed, hoping to see another fight. Murdoc stayed immobile, his eyes still glued to his shoes.

He heard someone approach him. For a moment, he thought it was the boy again, and he flinched. But the voice that addressed him was quiet and sweet. It was also familiar to him, somehow.

"Are you alright?" the voice asked. Murdoc looked up to see a girl standing in front of him. She had long blonde hair messily braided into pigtails and a line of light freckles across her nose and cheeks. She wore an oversized gray wool sweater, black leggings and old worn tennis shoes. Everything about her was unfamiliar to Murdoc except for her large, brilliant blue eyes. They were a blue that he had only seen once before, nearly three years ago.

It was the girl from the alley. The girl without a name.

"You!" he blurted, his eyes widening at seeing her. "I know you!"

The girl blushed and looked away, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. "Hullo," she said shyly.

Murdoc couldn't take his eyes off of the girl. After their meeting in the alley way, he had thought he would never see her again—as though she had been just a dream—and yet, there she was, standing right in front of him. "I remember you," was all he could say.

The girl looked up at him again and smiled. Her front teeth were missing. "I remember you, Murdoc Niccals. You are the boy from the alley. You threw a microphone at a drunken man and you were laughing. You were laughing even though you looked terribly sad." She paused and looked at her shoes, as though she couldn't think of anything else to say.

Murdoc blinked. He had completely forgotten what had happened before he had met the girl. It was all coming back to him now; the embarrassment of singing in front of all of those people, the anger, the look on the man's face when the microphone hit him. Then running. Running from his father.

Murdoc shivered.

"Are you alright?" the girl asked. Before he could answer, she reached out and offered her hand to him. "Come with me," she said, "I know somewhere we can hide. That big brute who was picking on you would have discovered I was lying by now. He'll be coming back." Without another word, Murdoc took the girl's hand and let her pull him through the gate and off school property.

The two stopped at a landfill just off to the side of the school. Massive towers of junk rose up far above their heads, casting long menacing shadows over the ground. Murdoc cocked an eyebrow at the girl. "What're we supposed to do here?" The girl didn't answer. Instead, she took Murdoc's hand again and lead him into the landfill. She lead him to a clearing surrounded by piles of rubbish. In the centre of the clearing was a Winnebago.

"Whoa…" Murdoc said, taking a few steps toward the vehicle. It was old, and rust marked quite a few places, but Murdoc had never seen something more interesting. "How did you find this?"

"I live here," the girl said, hopping up the steps and opening the Winnebago's door. She held it open for him.

The inside was something else. Holiday lights lined the windows and door, casting dim but colourful lights throughout the small space. A bed was made up with a light pink blanket and mismatched pillows. The walls had a few polaroid photos pinned to them. In the corner, Murdoc noticed with delight, sat a vintage record player, in perfect condition.

The girl seemed to notice him looking at the record player. "I like music," she said, shrugging. Murdoc could only nod, his eyes glued to the player.

"Would you like to play something?" the girl asked, trying hard to supress a smile. Murdoc nodded enthusiastically.

After rifling through a few of the girl's records (which he had no idea how they came to be in her possession, and dared not ask in fear that he might insult her) Murdoc chose one that was of his liking and placed it on the record player.

The two children sat in silence for a while, listening to music. After a moment, Murdoc spoke up. "Do you still not have a name?" _Perhaps she acquired one in the years I hadn't seen her_. The girl, however, simply shook her head.

"Oh," he said, "Well, then I suppose we can make one up." The girl's eyes found his and smiled brilliantly. Murdoc couldn't help but blush. "Well, er… remember when I asked you where you came from, in the alley way?" he said, and the girl nodded. "I said I came from the sky. And I did. I fell," she sat on the bed and patted the space next to her. Murdoc sat.

"You came from the sky. So, why don't I call you Skye?"

_Age 13_

"Three detentions in one week… You have got to be breaking some sort of record," Skye flopped down on the bed, her polaroid camera still hanging around her neck. Murdoc frowned.

"It wasn't my fault!" he said, pushing Skye's legs off the bed so he could sit. "That shithead Randy deserved it. And, I mean really, he breaks my nose and gets off with a slap on the wrist, and a few snakes in his locker gets me two detentions. How is that fair?"

Skye lifted her legs and let them fall right on Murdoc's lap. "They were poisonous."

"There's a bleeding antidote!" Skye laughed, although Murdoc hadn't been trying to be funny. "Anyway," he continued, leaning back against the wall, "detention or not, there's no chance they're getting me to stay after school on Thursday. There's no chance I'm missing your play."

Skye groaned and threw her camera onto her side table, sending a few pictures flying. "Damn it all, Murdoc, why did you have to remind me?" She grabbed one of her pillows and held it over her face. Murdoc laughed, poking her in the stomach. She flinched.

"Ah, come on, Skye…" he said, not bothering to hide his grin, "You're going to be great!"

"Great, sure," Skye said, her voice muffled through the pillow, "by 'great' you mean completely and utterly awful—so awful that afterward I'll be so hated throughout the school that I will have to move to Canada to hide my shame. I will have to live with the Eskimos and my only friends will be sled dogs."

Murdoc laughed and pulled the pillow off of Skye's face. Strands of her long hair stuck to it, making crackling noises as he pulled it further away. She frowned at him, though he could tell she was trying hard not to laugh. "Eskimos, eh?" he said, flashing her a mocking grin. She looked away and scrunched up her face so she wouldn't laugh. "Well, then, those sled dogs are out of luck, because if you move to Canada, then I'm coming too."

Both him and Skye burst out laughing, Murdoc's hand placed carefully on Skye's thigh so she wouldn't fall off the bed.

_Age 16_

"Wake up, Blue Eyes, or you'll miss the whole flipping day," Murdoc jabbed Skye impatiently in the ribs with his finger. Skye groaned, a threw a pillow at him, catching him right in the stomach. Murdoc laughed and jumped on the bed.

"Murdoc! Okay, I'm up…" Skye shouted, trying feebly to shove him off the bed. Murdoc chuckled and grabbed her wrists. "Don't even try it! You can't shove _me_ around no more, Squirt! I'm at least a head taller than you now." Skye grinned. "Well, why don't we see?"

Before Murdoc could react, Skye pulled him down onto the bed and sat on his stomach, his arms held down by her knees. Murdoc let out a yelp in surprise, making Skye laugh.

"Pinned you!" she said playfully, slowly releasing her grip. Taking the chance, Murdoc threw her down on the bed and hopped on top of her. "Hey," she squeaked and she struggled to free her hands, "you cheated! No fair." Murdoc laughed and waited for her to quiet down. Finally, she stopped struggling and looked into his eyes.

Once again, her eyes took him by surprise. It was as though he was staring right into the ocean, the deep blue sparkling like sunshine on the water. He then suddenly realized just how beautiful Skye was. The curve of her full lips, her porcelain skin, the point of her nose… everything about her was perfect.

And then, her face was just inches from his. Their lips touched for only a moment before Skye turned her face away. Murdoc jerked back, looking into her eyes questioningly, and in a moment he understood.

"Murdoc…" Skye began, crawling out from underneath him. Murdoc looked away. He didn't need to hear it out loud, but it somehow made it all the more real. "You're my friend. My best friend. And I just don't want that to go away. Not ever. And I'm scared that this might…" She seemed at a loss for words.

"Break us apart." Murdoc finished for her. He looked at her again. She looked the exact way he was feeling: like complete shit.

_Age 18_

Murdoc felt that his eyes couldn't possibly go wider as he watched Skye glide across the stage. He could barely believe what he was watching. The way her hips moved with the music, the way she twisted and spun to impossible positions and speeds… it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. _She _was beautiful.

The music came to an end, and she stopped dancing. The audience erupted in applause, and through her heavy breathing, Skye flashed a truly happy smile. It was the first Murdoc had seen in a long time. Murdoc stood and clapped as hard as he could.

"Murdoc! You came," Skye said, skipping over to him and throwing her arms around his neck. Murdoc liked the feeling. But it was over too soon; Skye pulled away and stared up at him happily. Her blue eyes were abnormally bright.

"'Course I came, Blue Eyes," he said, playfully ruffling her boy-cut blonde hair. Streaks of blue were criss-crossed through it, to match her eyes. "You were fantastic."

Skye blushed and looked away. "Thanks… but I sort of messed up on one of the steps…" Murdoc poked her in the ribs. "No one noticed. You were great. Take the compliment, will you?"

They stepped out onto the rain together. It wasn't far from the dance studio to the landfill, so they had walked. "Damn," Murdoc mumbled, throwing his coat over his head. Skye, on the other hand, laughed and ran out into the rain, lifting her arms up. "Come on, it's just rain!" she called, and Murdoc shrugged and followed her into the night.

They ended up in a park, filled with dying trees and patches in the grass. "You know," Murdoc yelled over the sound of the pouring rain, "you really were amazing tonight. I haven't seen you so happy in a long time."

Skye turned around and looked at him. _Really_ looked at him. As though she was looking at him for the first time, or at least in a new light. "Do you ever feel… do you ever feel like everything is just… slipping away?" She said, so quietly that Murdoc had to strain to hear.

"I don't understand. Slipping away?" Murdoc said. There was suddenly a horrible feeling at the pit of his stomach.

"There was a scout at the recital… he loved me. He wants me to come train with him… in America."

The horrible feeling solidified into pure horror. No, he must have heard her wrong. That… that couldn't be true. Skye couldn't leave. Not now. Not after… not after everything they had been through together. She was his best friend. He—he loved her! She couldn't leave now. What would he do without her?

Murdoc stayed silent and stared at his hands. He could feel her eyes on him. He didn't move. He could hear her saying his name, but only distantly. He couldn't feel anything. He wanted to be angry with her, yell at her for abandoning him, storm off and never speak to her again… but he felt nothing. Nothing but loneliness.

A hand touched his shoulder. He looked up to see Skye, her eyes filled with pain and worry and guilt. Suddenly, Murdoc felt anger. Not for her, but for himself. How could he be so selfish? He told her himself that she was an amazing dancer… and she was. She deserved this. And Murdoc hated himself for thinking otherwise.

"Murdoc…" Skye said, lightly touching his face with her slender hand. Murdoc grasped it in his and held it there. "You… you're my best friend, Murdoc. You've been with me for longer than I can remember. But my destiny… it's at that dance studio. And you're destiny is here—I don't know what, but you're going to change the world one day. I know it," and with that, Skye pressed her lips lightly to Murdoc's and hugged him. When she let go, Murdoc felt it was too soon. Always too soon.

She gave him one last look with those brilliant blue eyes, and turned and walked away. Murdoc watched her go. When she was out of sight, and only when she was out of sight, Murdoc cried for the first time. A sob wrenched through his entire body and he fell to his knees, as the rain continued to pour.

_Age 26_

The throbbing in his head woke Murdoc up. Another night of drinking, another long day of being hung over. It almost made Murdoc sick of drinking… almost.

Murdoc groaned and pulled himself out of bed. Someone stirred on the bed, and Murdoc sighed. Another woman, whose name he couldn't remember. Her hair was a deep red, strewn messily across the pillow. Her naked chest was visible, but it did nothing for Murdoc, now that he was sober. He sighed again and rubbed his face. He would have to get some alcohol in him soon. Very soon.

He left the woman in his bed and trudged downstairs to the kitchen. He had bought massive studio not three years earlier, when he had just put his band, the Gorillaz, together. Now, they were the most famous band in the United Kingdom. Practically the world.

_Maybe Skye has heard of us_, he thought fleetingly, _maybe she knows she was right all along_.

Murdoc shook himself. No, he would not think of her. He would go to the kitchen, drink the left over scotch in the fridge, then go upstairs and maybe shag that woman again. She and the alcohol will erase all of his feelings for… for that girl he once knew. Temporarily, at least.

Murdoc came to the kitchen and opened the fridge. He grabbed the first bottle of scotch he could find and began chugging it down. The burning feeling was already washing away the memories. Murdoc wiped his mouth and grinned sadly.

"Bit early for that, don't you think?" Startled, Murdoc twisted around to see 2D, the singer of the Gorillaz band, sitting at the kitchen table, nursing what looked to be orange juice. 2D raised an eyebrow.

"Ah…" Murdoc grumbled, "shove off, twerp." Too tired and too hung over to bother hitting him, Murdoc stumbled out of the kitchen and into the front foyer. He had planned to go re-acquaintance himself with the woman waiting for him upstairs, but he suddenly couldn't stand being in the house any longer. With his bottle of scotch in hand, Murdoc stumbled out the front door and into the morning sun.

It wasn't until he saw his old school on the horizon did Murdoc realize he was heading to the landfill. He hadn't been there since he had moved the Winnebago to his garage at the studio. He had felt bad about leaving it there… he wasn't entirely sure why. It's not like anyone would use it ever again.

_But if she came back… _

"She's not coming back," Murdoc shouted out loud, stopping dead in his tracks. What was he doing? Going back to Skye's and his old hang-out just to make himself miserable? No, he should be back at Kong, screwing random women and drinking until he blacks out. "That's your life, now," he muttered, shoving his hand deep in his pocket and turning on his heel, "Just forget about her and live it."

He was just about to head home when something flashed in the corner of his eye. He turned to see just a glimpse of someone—someone terribly familiar—turning the corner into the landfill. No. No, it was just a trick of the mind. It couldn't be. Still…

It wouldn't hurt to check. He turned on his heel and entered the landfill, just to see the figure dart behind a pile of rubbish. He picked up his pace, steadily following the person, always just out of sight.

His heart began to beat quicker and quicker as he slowly caught up with the figure. He had just turned behind another pile when he saw her.

It wasn't Skye.

A woman, with white-blonde hair like hers, strode now not too far off from Murdoc, her eyes darting this way and that as though she were looking for something. Her brown eyes.

Murdoc's heart sank, and then anger flared up inside him. He was such an idiot! How could he have done this to himself? With a roar of frustration Murdoc threw his bottle of scotch to the ground. It shattered, sending pieces flying everywhere. A shard caught Murdoc's shoulder, another his leg, another his cheek. He didn't care. He hardly felt it. He kicked and stomped at the remainder of the bottle, as though those were pieces of himself, as though he could simply grind all of his feelings into the dirt, and never feel again.

"Murdoc?"

A small voice had him stop dead in his tracks. He whipped around, eyes popping at the sight.

A young woman, about his age, stood not ten feet away from him. She had a thin frame and wore an old leather jacket and tight jeans with a tear on her left knee. Her wind-blown blonde hair fell past her shoulders in soft waves. Freckles lightly traced her nose and cheek bones. Murdoc, however, hardly noticed. He could only see her eyes. They were a brilliant blue, like Murdoc had only ever seen in one person.

"Skye."

Twenty-six-year-old Skye put her hand over her mouth and her eyebrows mashed together. "Oh, Murdoc," she said through her hand, taking a step forward, "you're bleeding."

And with that, a sudden wave of nausea overtook Murdoc, and he collapsed.

"He's looking a little better, I think."

"He does look a little pale, I guess… Less green…"

"Wait! I think he's waking… Murdoc? Are you… are you well?"

Murdoc groaned and rubbed his stinging eyes. His shoulder and leg were in terrible pain, and there was an awful throbbing feeling in his cheek. Noodle, the band's guitarist, asked again if he was okay. He snorted, about to tell her that no, in fact, he was quite the opposite, when he realized that Noodle didn't speak a lick of English—

Murdoc's eyes flew open to see 2D and… and _Skye_ at his bedside. Skye had the same worried expression she had in the landfill, but her eyes filled with relief when she saw his eyes had opened. "Oh, thank God," she said quietly, passing a hand over her face, "you're awake!"

"Wha… What's going on?" Murdoc sputtered, staring disbelievingly at Skye. "You're supposed to be in America… How—?"

"Got transferred, she said," said 2D, who sat a few feet back from Murdoc's bed, almost as though he were hiding behind Skye. "When you fainted, she got the cell phone from your pocket and called the house and—"

"I didn't faint!" Murdoc growled, pushing himself up into a sitting position and making 2D cringe further away. He groaned when pain cut through his shoulder.

"You're still a little weak," Skye said, lightly pushing on his chest so that he'd lie back down. Feeling her touch made her all the more real—Murdoc was almost sad when she pulled her hand away. "You lost quite a bit of blood—those glass shards cut you really deep. But don't fret—about a day of rest and you'll be perfectly fine."

She smiled, and Murdoc heart panged sadly. His mind flashed briefly to the night all those years ago, the last time he saw Skye. That night in the rain.

He mentally shook himself and instead concentrated on Skye, how she had changed. She had grown out her blonde hair quite a bit, and her blue highlights were gone. The freckles on her face were still there but they had faded considerably. Her body was no longer that of a teenager, but that of a woman—narrow shoulders, curved hips, long legs, humble breasts…

Murdoc didn't let his eyes linger too long on Skye's chest. He instead looked into her eyes… they're were the same blue as he remembered—the brilliant, beautiful blue, yet somehow they were different… perhaps sadder.

Skye's lips moved as though she were saying something. Murdoc mentally shook himself. "Sorry?"

"I said that I should probably go," Skye said, glancing at the door, "to check into my hotel… I'm already a few hours late and I don't want them to give my room away—"

"What? Hotel?" Murdoc said disbelievingly, "nonsense! You can stay here!"

"Here?" Skye said, her voice cracking slightly. "Oh, I don't want to be a bother…"

2D perked up from behind her. "You won't be a bother, not at all," he squeaked nervously. "You can use my room if you want, I'm fine with sleeping on the couch… or sharing…"

"Back off, Face Ache," Murdoc snapped, making 2D cringe further behind Skye, "she's not sleeping in your room."

"Oh-_kay_," Skye said loudly, "I think that's enough. Stuart, would you mind giving Murdoc and me a bit of privacy? It's been a very long time since we've seen each other and we have some catching up to do." 2D, glad to have an excuse to leave, nodded jerkily and ducked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

For a moment, the room was quiet, both parties refusing to look each other in the eye. Murdoc was at a loss for words, now that they were alone. His heart hammered in his chest so loudly he swore that Skye could hear it. Finally, after a silence that seemed like hours, Skye cleared her throat quietly.

"Murdoc, I… I want you to know that I was absolutely miserable when I left. I hated leaving you, leaving my life behind… but I also want you to know that I'm back now, and I'm not ever leaving again. I know you must hate me for abandoning you here… I hate myself for it… and I know you must not want to see me right now, but if you would please give me a chance to redeem—"

And then Murdoc's arms were around her, pulling her into his chest. The pain in his shoulder spiked with the sudden movement but he hardly felt it; all he could feel was Skye, her body pressed against his. He could feel the warmth radiating from her body, smell the strawberry shampoo in her hair, hear her sharp breathing… she was real, she was with him. A happiness washed over Murdoc, one that he hadn't felt for eight years. And, for the first time in eight years, Murdoc smiled.

"Skye…" He whispered into her hair, "I've… I've missed you." He felt Skye's shoulders shake as she sobbed quietly. "I've missed you, too, Murdoc."

The two clung to each other for a long while, both of them refusing to let go of one another. Murdoc's heart was singing; it wasn't until the pain in his arm was too unbearable that he reluctantly pulled away from Skye.

"You rest, now," Skye whispered, smiling down at him with a comforting warmth, "and when you wake I'll be right here. I promise."

_Two Weeks Later…_

Since Skye had arrived, Murdoc had never felt so alive. Other than the few hours a day that she spent rehearsing at the studio, Skye spent nearly every waking moment with Murdoc.

"If you don't hurry up, we're going to miss it!" Skye shouted impatiently. "Just because you're a big rock-star doesn't mean they won't give our seats away!"

"Actually," Murdoc said, emerging from his room and hastily throwing a coat over his shoulders, "that's exactly what it means."

Skye covered her mouth with her hand to suppress a giggle.

"Alright, fine, hotshot. But if you make me miss my one chance to see Roger Waters _live in concert _then I will never forgive you."

Murdoc flashed a crooked grin and stepped into the lift after Skye, pressing the button that would take them to the garage. A moment's wait and they both stepped into the large, dimly lit cement basement of Kong Studios.

Skye glanced at their old Winnebago, which sat patiently in the corner of the garage, and sighed. "I still cannot believe you saved it from the landfill, I was almost certain that it got recycled. Thank you, Murdoc." She smiled up at Murdoc, making his cheeks heat up. "Alright, alright, no need to get all sappy on me," he said, scratching his head embarrassedly.

Skye stopped. Murdoc paused, looking at her curiously. The expression on her face was difficult to understand… There was a smile there, but it didn't reach her eyes. He took a step toward her. "Skye—?" Before he could finish, however, Skye pressed her lips again his. Shocked, Murdoc stood there for a moment before melding into Skye's body. He returned the kiss passionately, wrapping his arms around her slight waist. She responded in kind, throwing her arms over his shoulders and playing with his hair.

They had just broke apart when a loud BANG erupted through the empty garage. Both Murdoc and Skye jumped, Skye letting out a surprised yelp. Before Skye could even finish saying "What was that?" all the lights blew out and they were thrown into blackness.

Murdoc squinted through the darkness, blindly reaching out for Skye. "Skye? Where are you?"

"Murdoc! I'm over here. What's going on?"

"Lights must've short-circuited. Don't worry, just keep talking—,"

Before he could finish, something smashed over Murdoc's back, sending him flying to the ground. Skye screamed. Murdoc tried feebly to stand, but was kicked roughly back down.

"Sorry to interrupt the touching moment, Murdoc."

Oh God. Murdoc knew that voice. The lights flickered and turned back on, to reveal a young man, not much older than Murdoc himself, standing over him. He held an aluminium bat in this left hand. "Do you really think you could divert from your path without so much as a slap on the wrist? I thought you knew better, little brother."

Hannibal Niccals paced in front of Murdoc, laughing. Behind him, Murdoc could make out the shadows of five… no, six other men waiting for his brother to give them word to advance. Between two of them, he could just make out Skye's small outline, struggling against their hold. Murdoc cursed beneath his breath.

"What, didn't expect us to come after you? Even after you made the oath?" Hannibal turned his back to Murdoc and recited the line that Murdoc knew too well. "_I shall not divert from the path of the Dark Lord, Satan, lest I be broken and cast into Hell's fire for eternity_. Fairly straight forward, don't you think?"

Hannibal turned and glared pointedly at Murdoc. Murdoc could barely wrap his head around this; the last he had heard of Hannibal, he was in prison for _murder_. And yet, here he was, threatening Murdoc and Skye's lives. But how?

As through he could read his brother's mind, Hannibal sneered, "Confused to see me out so early, brother? Well, let's just say that I had a little divine help in escaping… I get out," he growled, "and in exchange, I bring you to _Him_."

Murdoc struggled to stand, but another kick to the ribs sent him onto the ground again. "Uh-uh, Murdoc," Hannibal laughed menacingly, "no point in trying to run. See, we've got your lovely little friend, here…" he glanced over his shoulder at Skye, who was writhing and shrieking profanities at her captors. "She's got a spark in her, this one. And such a pretty little thing… I would certainly love to snuff it out."

"Don't you touch her, Hannibal!" Murdoc shrieked, pushing himself up into a crouching position. Murdoc was about to lunge for the bat when the nose of a gun pushed up against his forehead.

"Tsk, tsk," Hannibal said in mock disappointment, "did you really think I would come so unprepared? It's a shame, I had really hoped I wouldn't have to kill you in such an unimaginative way, but…" Hannibal pressed the gun deeper into Murdoc's forehead.

With one last look at Skye's writhing body, he closed his eyes, silently sending up a prayer to… Well, he doubted anyone would listen to him, but he sent up a prayer to_ anyone _that Skye wouldn't come to any harm…

BANG.

Murdoc's eyes flew open. One of the henchmen that had been holding Skye lay thirty feet away from her. He had hit the wall with such force his body left a crevice in the cement. Before Murdoc could even react the second henchman flew in the opposite direction, his body crashing into a cement pillar.

"What the fuck—?!" Hannibal took his gun away from Murdoc's head and pointed it over to where Skye was, firing three shots. Murdoc screamed and turned to where Skye had been standing.

Skye was glowing. _Literally _glowing. A white aura pulsated off her as she calmly walked toward Hannibal. The shots directed at her disintegrated into dust before they even touched her. In a panic, Hannibal threw his gun to the side and bolted in the opposite direction, to the opening of the garage where the rest of his henchmen had already fled. Before he could reach the door, however, he stopped, as though he had been frozen mid-run, and flew back toward Skye like a ragdoll on a string. Hannibal was thrown to the ground in front of Skye, whose face was perfectly calm—except for her eyes. They glowed white, like the aura that surrounded her. Hannibal tried to stand and run but with a flick of Skye's hand he was shoved onto the ground again.

"H-have mercy!" Hannibal cried, throwing his hands over his head and sobbing into the cement floor. "I was only doing what I was told to do! I wouldn't have hurt you, I swear! Please!"

Skye stared down at Hannibal with her white eyes. "You who have shown no mercy shall receive none in kind. All those who have deviated from the path of the righteous must pay for their sins. May the Lord have mercy on your soul, foul creature."

Skye lifted her hand and hovered it over Hannibal's body. The white energy pulsated all the more strongly around her body until she was so bright that it nearly blinded Murdoc—

"Skye!"

The glow dimmed slightly, and Skye's white eyes lifted to meet Murdoc's. He had only just regained his voice, but now he felt himself faltering again. He hadn't the slightest idea what was going on, what had happened to Skye, but he felt if he didn't say something… the result would be disastrous.

"Skye," he said, putting his hands up to show submission, "you don't want to hurt him. He is an awful, wretched man that deserves ten times worse than this, but you aren't that kind of person." He took a step forward as Skye's glow slowly began to recede. Her hand lowered itself ever so slightly.

"You aren't a killer, Skye… Please, it's okay, I'm okay. See? I'm walking. Please, Skye, don't hurt him. You don't have to protect me anymore."

With that, the glow completely evaporated, and Skye's eyes returned to their natural blue. Skye's footing suddenly gave out on her, Murdoc catching her before she fell to the ground.

Hannibal scrambled away from the two of them, his eyes and mouth wide. "What the fuck—what the fuck is wrong with that woman?"

Murdoc glared at his older brother. "Get the fuck out of my house, Hannibal, or I'll kill you myself."

Hannibal yelped feebly and stumbled his way out of the garage and into the night.


End file.
